


An Old Goat Can Teach New Tricks

by Ononymous



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Teacher Toriel (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: With part of her mind always on issues beyond raising and teaching children, Toriel decides to do her part to show the humans that monsters come in peace. And what better way to teach that fact than going to a human school to do it?





	An Old Goat Can Teach New Tricks

The low hum of the fan by the window was the only noise in the unkempt office, its lone occupant scribbling a few notes in a planner between meeting. He allowed himself an additional sigh to complement the one given when his most recent phone call ended fifteen minutes later. It was like this every time a new boss got voted into office. A new and exciting initiative to shape up how the children of the district were taught, which happened to look uncannily like the old and stagnant methodology. Recalling the previous white paper placed on his desk a few years back, the only significant difference between that and the one the phone call discussed was the name of the proposer. Not that it was necessarily a bad way to teach children, but it might have been more productive if they stopped trying to return to the start yet again so they could take credit for it. The wearisome call had been to reassure his new boss that he was on board and would be pursuing it in a new and dynamic fashion. Exactly like he did last time. He was relieved that his imminent appointment was an opportunity to discuss something actually new and dynamic.

Finished with his planner, the man loosened his tie as he switched on the desktop coffee machine, then returned to his computer, fished out the one opened email among the hundreds of neglected messages, and used its contents to fetch the relevant information. Just as he finished, his office comm buzzed.

"Mister Devlin, your, um, two o' clock appointment is here."

Judging by the tone of his secretary's voice, he hadn't been aware who would be visiting. Bad planning on his part. "Thank you, Victor, send her in."

He fumbled with the knot of his tie for a moment, to assert some order, but the breeze from the fan reminded him of the warm weather outside, and to smother himself in a closed collar was intolerable. Besides, if she was anything like the King, protocol wasn't as important to these people. Instead he rested his hands on the desk just as the door opened, the corridor beyond blocked by the figure who had come to see him.

"Afternoon, ma'am." His tone was plain, but not dismissive. "I hope you're doing well."

"All is fine at present, Mister Devlin. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."

"Not at all. Take a seat. Coffee?"

"Black, please."

Toriel ducked slightly to clear the doorframe, then to the slightly threadbare computer chair Mister Devlin had brought in here especially for her. Its taller stature and lack of arm rests better suited her kind than his usual guest chair. The comical memory of the King squeezed into it without complaint flashed in his head briefly. The combination of the larger chair and her slightly smaller frame afforded her a greater amount of dignity as she sat, depositing a bulging bag beside her. Her white fuzzy hands accepted one of the cups he had poured out while she took her seat. Mister Devlin watched all concern leave her inhuman face as she sipped her drink, before she resumed looking at him, ready to get down to business. That look was universal among those who ran schools, even if they had floppy ears and horns.

"So then, Toriel, what can the district education board do for you?"

She didn't beat about the bush. "I wish to discuss the license your former superior granted for our premises on the surface."

"Ah, I thought you might."

This was the one actually new and actually dynamic thing the education board had been involved with for a long time, even if his old boss delegated the bulk of the logistics behind it to him. It turned out not to be a vote winner unfortunately, even if Mister Devlin had agreed with it. Though like many initiatives conceived with an eye on the perception of the act, perhaps the most appropriate people had not been linked up to arrange it. King Asgore had been no dummy, their society in the Underground had a well organised education system, but the few times he'd spoken directly with the monster before him now, the situation had progressed by bounds. But talking to the King about it looked more decisive. As he pulled up the relevant documents on his computer, he hoped this would be more decisive.

"Now then, as I'm sure you know, the Treaty of Ebott discusses the question of Monster Education."

"Indeed," she nodded, "I pushed hard for it."

"Oh, you did?" She looked a little embarrassed, like she had acted beyond her station, so he moved on. "Well, as the best means to honour humanity's obligations under that part, Mister Terrington drafted up a unique license for your school, granting the King and anyone he delegates autonomy to decide how monsters are taught in this school. I assume he has granted you this authority?"

"I am not sure I would phrase it like that, Mister Devlin," she said, "but yes, I currently decide what is taught."

He smiled a little. "Funny how you can spot a teacher regardless of species." She accepted the compliment with a smile. "In any case, this was to allow Monster Education to begin quickly while the board could take time to assess what changes to the curriculum may be required to accommodate recognition of any qualifications you may bestow on your students."

"Yes, and that has been of... immediate benefit," said Toriel. "However, I wish to discuss the possibility of expediting that recognition, or otherwise working to integrate our systems."

"Oh? Have there been problems?"

"...not yet, strictly speaking." She had the air of intruding on hospitality, but an important need kept her talking. "You see, there have been humans inquiring about the logistics of enrolling their children at my school."

"Ahhhhh," he said, understanding the problem, "the waivers..."

"Precisely. Consulting the board on the advisability of their children joining the school, your board has produced waivers they would be required to sign disavowing responsibility for what we teach or the merits of any qualifications we may offer. It has dissuaded quite a few from enrolling, fearing their children would emerge from it unable to advance to university or seek a job in the wider world."

There was concern on Toriel's face, but not the outrage one might think of when a facet of their civilization has been demeaned like this. Mister Devlin felt comfortable her concerns were in good faith.

"Well you have to understand, the process for licensing educational facilities is usually a complex and lengthy affair. If we had submitted your proposals to it, it could easily have been another two or three years before you were granted permission to open."

"So in effect, we are formally, officially, unlicensed." There was no malice in the observation, but there was an edge.

"...you could put it that way," he conceded, "but surely you're aware we have minimal standards of what is required to be taught. Biology, for instance. I'm sure those lessons look very different to a monster than a human, don't they?" She nodded. "So as currently arranged, any human attending your school is in danger of failing the standard biology exams."

She flicked her ear a moment as she took in this concern. "A fair point, Mister Devlin, very fair. And I am not unaware of these issues. The problem is, however, since our permission to run a school has been granted, our meetings with the education board to facilitate such harmonisation has dried up. The only official notice I have received in four months were those waivers prospective students had to sign."

"They have? But Mister Terrington was to... to... oh... One moment."

She regarded him patiently as he turned to the computer and dug up emails from before the election. He skimmed over what his boss had said about monsters, blowharding about how willing the board had been to give the monsters their place in the world. Nothing about _expanding_ it. The understanding on his face prompted Toriel to continue.

"I am concerned that by meeting their obligations under the treaty in this improvised manner, the board considers its duties fully discharged, and now there is nothing more for them to do. This arrangement would work fine for the short term, perhaps even years, but I am worried about the long term consequences."

The concern in her voice was rather pronounced. So he had to ask. "And why is it urgent we push for integration now?" He sipped his coffee while she took a deep breath.

"Do you know how the war started?"

His planner got a blotchy brown decoration as the unexpected question tried to strangle him mid-sip. "Th-the war? What-" He coughed and spluttered, trying to regain his composure. "I... I only know what that turtle said on an interview on television."

"And he was right," said Toriel, "but he missed the base reason. Fear. Fear born of ignorance. Had the humans of those days known us better, they'd have known their fears were ridiculous. I fear that by placing monster students in a silo, cut off from wider society, that ignorance will grow once more. If monsters being left to their own devices becomes standard practice, it encourages a barrier as insidious as the one that sealed us. I refuse to allow inertia to deny an opportunity for us to forge stronger ties."

Toriel had lost the look of a teacher as she divulged her fears to him, but it did not rob her of dignity. If anything it was enhanced, a natural and ancient authority taking root in her words, and it tempted Mister Devlin to agree to things he couldn't possibly authorise. Instead, as she took a moment to drink her coffee, a stupid question kept locked up deep in his mind since he had first met Toriel staged a dramatic jailbreak.

"Are you sure you aren't the Queen?"

No further stains accompanied Toriel's interrupted beverage. She simply stopped drinking and placed the cup back on the desk. It spoke volumes, and Mister Devlin wasn't sure if he was allowed to read it.

"Um, sorry... That was..."

"Presumptive." Another compendium slammed silently on his desk.

"A-anyway," he clumsily rallied, "I can see your concerns. I can talk to Mister Nethercott about not allowing your situation to stagnate, and even if he doesn't make a big song and dance about it, the momentum to allow monsters and humans to learn together should-"

"I would like my school recognised for the new school year in September."

Eyes widening, he studied the muzzle. Nope, he couldn't see any hint of a joke, so unless monster body language was completely alien, she was serious. "Now Toriel, I'm willing to concede we've been rather lax about this, but that is a tall order even if we hadn't. It's already May. And I told you it took years-"

"What are the criteria?"

Again, no sign of a joke. She was serious. It made him want to help. "Well, at an absolute minimum we'd have to cover what is on your curriculum..."

Her horns dropped down to the level of his chin as Toriel reached for her bag. Ten bulging folders were deposited on his desk. "A summary of each topic, ages six to eighteen, with monster-specific lessons that may not apply to humans highlighted for discussion."

He skimmed through the neat handwriting on the first page of the top folder. Then the next objection came to mind. "Your facility will have to be assessed for possible mobility issues. Some humans can't walk, or are missing limbs, and it would be a burden for them to be faced with stairs all the time."

She actually smiled at this requirement. "That should not be an issue. Our anatomical divergence is much wider than humans, and our building techniques already take non-bipedal motion into account. Have you heard of the entertainer Mettaton?" He nodded. "Well his employee Aedif has already been to industry conferences for consultation on building for mobility. I believe his new hotel has been nominated for an award."

This level of preparation for these challenges matched every impression he had of Toriel being organised. But the biggest concern remained. "And what about your staff? Obviously they won't have any of our qualifications for teaching. How do you propose they get them?"

Another sheet of paper, paltry compared to the assembled curriculum, emerged from her bag. "I have been studying the process of enrollment on the board's list of approved teachers. The qualifications are secondary to assessment and approval, not unlike that which student teachers undergo. It is another 'fudge', so to speak, but perhaps my staff could submit themselves to such assessment?"

Her notes on this paper backed her up, citing the recognition of foreign qualifications. If she had really been a queen, she must have been a good one. "There is also the matter of finding time in the board members' schedule to review these responses. It's exam season as it is, so it's all hands on deck. How will Mister Nethercott find the time to justify this expedited review process?"

"Well..." something looking a lot like mischief played on her muzzle. "You could perhaps pitch it as a new and dynamic initiative in your handling with monsters?"

"...damn, you've got the lingo down cold."

"Hee hee. Thank you."

"But I dunno if it's enough. The sort of folk who I end up working for look for a certain verve when claiming to be bold. Sending a bunch of inspectors to your school doesn't have the kind of thing he'd be... hang on..."

"Yes?"

"What if one of your teachers... taught a class in a human school? Were assessed there? That would have the appeal he's looking for. And maybe a human could teach at your school. Make it an exchange program!"

"A human school?" She sounded surprised, but there was no fear. "That is an excellent idea! It should show that humans and monsters can have a future together far more directly."

"Exactly." And it would look good on his own salary appraisal review. "Now I can start working on the best pitch to get the ball rolling. In the meantime you may want to consider who would be best suited for the exchange."

"I have no need." Her certainty was oddly reassuring. "I shall do it myself."

"Yourself?"

"Yes. I have already discussed the possibility of assessment with my staff, but it would not be fair to place the burden of that in an unfamiliar environment so quickly. I must lead by example."

Royalist curiosity threatened to seize him again, but he parried the impulse. "Alrighty then. Now even if we get the pitch underway today, it'll be a few weeks before it would happen. That should give you time to prepare." And for him to document his role in this idea for the review..

"Thank you, Mister Devlin. I am sure things will go well."

* * *

Toriel was not sure things would go well.

The corridor felt rather warm, and the fact it was early June was only part of the problem. She stood before the door, double checking that she had everything. Name register, lesson plan, books, a good luck card signed by her friends and family... where was the spare chalk? Oh, it was in her left hand pocket. When what was in her right? Oh, her phone. Better switch that off, it wouldn't do to be interrupted by it. There. Now she was ready. Just open the door. Any moment now.

She had a hard time understanding her nerves on the matter. It wasn't like she hadn't had to teach unfamiliar classes before. The main difference here being the class was unlikely to have much in the way of fur or scales. Just two dozen humans. Looking up at her. Alone. Why was that so unnerving? She'd been in rooms full of adult humans since leaving the Underground. Stares were nothing new. It wasn't like stares would undermine efforts to build peace...

Ah, there it was. In those adult rooms the stakes had not been as acute. Technically they were not particularly dire today. Mister Devlin had assured her that failure would not jeopardise the current arrangement, and instead result in a slower and more formal training program Toriel and her other teachers would have to complete. But it still felt dire. She was standing in this unfamiliar corridor of an unfamiliar school for reasons far beyond teaching. If it mattered to nobody else, it mattered to her. But her continued dilly dallying would look bad if she remained frozen here. She's better open the door and enter. Any moment now.

The memory of a child bathed in the glow of a sunset, looking up at her with a desire for family bolstered her resolve. With Frisk's example filling her with determination, she took a breath, opened the door and entered, thankfully remembering to dip her head slightly, for the frame was slightly smaller than her own school.

Right away there was one benefit: The class was giving her their undivided attention, though it was obvious it wasn't because of her natural authority. Regarding them a moment, there was a mix of different colours, though not quite as wide as a monster class would have been. A scruffy looking man with a worn jacket sat in the back corner, pen ready to log her every act. Her floppy ears easily caught whispering near the back, but let it go unchallenged right now. This situation was as unique for them as it was for her. Taking a piece of chalk, she wrote 'MISS TORIEL' on the blackboard, before turning around and properly greeting them with a smile.

"Good morning, children!"

"Good morning, Miss Toriel." It was a reserved response, but it was better than stony silence. Extracting the register from her paperwork, she patiently called out each name, ticking along with every "Here" she received.

"Now, as I am sure your regular teacher explained, I shall be teaching you as part of an exchange program. But I suppose I shall be learning from you all as well! I hope I am as good a student as you all are, ha ha."

A hand from the middle of the class shot up, and without waiting for an answer, "Are you gonna teach us magic?" Muttering started up, and Toriel wasn't sure she liked the hopeful air of it, for now she'd have to dash it.

"Joseph, was it? Well I am sorry, but I am not here to teach magic. I shall be continuing your regular lessons." He looked unmistakably disappointed, so she changed tack. "However, that is not to say I cannot begin the day with answering a few questions you might have about monsters."

The suggestion was treated as an open invitation, if not an order. A wave of sound crashed down on her. "How do you make when did Underground why grass horns magic humans pun scary what want to sad-"

"Children, please!" Mercifully they stopped. "Hand in the air if you have a question!"

Nearly every hand rose. The assessor had begun to write.

"You there, Carrie?"

"Um, is it true you live in a cave?"

"Well, most of us used to. A very large cave called the Underground. Some of us still live there, but many have moved to the surface. Yes, Charlie?"

"Do you sleep on rocks?"

"Goodness no, I sleep on a bed just like you do! Bella?"

"Why are your eyes red?"

"My mother's eyes were red. Juan?"

"Do all monsters look like you?"

"Oh no, we come in all shapes and sizes. Some I could carry in my hand, some could carry me in theirs."

At least the children were engaging with her, even if they hadn't started the planned lessons yet. A few attempts to change the subject was firmly rebuffed, though she was able to insist on one question per child. Twenty three questions later, there was one hand left.

"What's your favourite grass?"

"My... grass?"

"Yeah. To eat."

"I... My child, I do not eat grass."

"You don't? But I see goats eat grass all the time."

The class broke out in titters. She frowned at the comparison. The assessor continued writing.

"Well then," she said firmly, "I think it is time we begin our planned lessons. Does everybody have their copy of _Flight of the Doves_?" Everyone nodded. "Very good, please open them at chapter one and we shall read along together. Carrie, can you begin?"

The shared reading went well for the most part, even not everybody got a turn reading. With a chapter finished, she handed out worksheets about the story for the children to work on. One minor frustration is that chatter seemed to break out quite regularly, and she had to repeatedly ask for quiet while the work was going on. The problem was the chatter was unmistakably about her, and she didn't want to distract the children so much they didn't learn anything. After the worksheet came spelling, which she thought went well, although a young girl called Tisha's difficulty with 'passionate' was not resolved in time for mid-morning break. Not that it was much of a break to Toriel, for some teachers decided to interrogate her about monsters as the children had. Her assessor did not join in, quietly sipping coffee and working on a newspaper crossword puzzle.

"So you really don't sleep on rocks?"

"I am afraid not, Mrs Yi."

"Oh, well that's interesting." As Toriel left the staff room to prepare for her next lesson, Mrs Yi glumly handed over some money to a smug looking colleague. When Toriel returned to the classroom, she immediately noticed Tisha still at her desk, studying the book they had read together intently.

"Oh, are you enjoying the book?" asked Toriel.

Tisha looked up, meeting Toriel's eyes for just a moment, then looking away embarrassed. "Um, yes Miss Toriel."

"Well, be careful not to read too far ahead, hee hee!"

Tisha gave her a brief smile, then returned to the book, as if trying to pretend Toriel wasn't there. She wasn't sure whether to be concerned or disappointed.

Both feelings were assuaged by the next lesson. It was geography, a subject she felt confident in teaching to human standards, as monsters experienced the same geography humans did. Their regular teacher had been in the middle of teaching them about the water cycle, and as part of that had been overseeing six groups as they drew posters to demonstrate what they knew. As it was continuing work they had begun under someone else, they got down to it with less fuss than her initial appearance had caused. The usual dynamics of the class appeared to assert themselves, everyone working hard. Or almost everyone.

"Nicholas, please put that comic away."

The boy gave her a sullen look. "Okay, Miss Tori."

Two other boys at another group sniggered as Nicholas reluctantly obeyed. Toriel felt a little crestfallen at their informal address, it was a sign they weren't taking her seriously. And her assertion of authority didn't encourage him to help his groupmates however, as he sat in his chair twiddling his thumbs. With the assessor neutrally writing down notes, she feared getting into an argument with Nicholas over this was the wrong move, so instead she looked around for a more positive situation. She found it in the group Tisha was part of.

"No, we don't put the sun over the mountain," she was saying to Carrie," it's over the sea."

"Why? I never got that."

"That's to show what happens when the sun warms the water and it evaporizes into the sky."

"Don't you mean evaporate?" asked Charlie.

"Uh yeah," she said quickly, "so we draw the sun here – Carrie, you can do that – Charlie, you add some trees along the river, Juan, colour the river in, and I'll add the clouds."

Toriel was impressed by the organization. She watched the group even as she roamed the room ensuring the other groups were making progress, answering their questions about the water cycle and trying to intercept communication between Nicholas and his friends. When she permitted her full attention back to Tisha's group, the other three were labelling the various parts of the poster as she finished the clouds.

"My, those are some lovely clouds you are drawing, child."

"Thanks, Miss Toriel." She sounded happier than she'd been at break. "I like to draw."

"And you draw very well, Tisha. But you have to add some labels as well, it is not fair the others do it for you."

The air of confidence she'd had all lesson deflated, for reasons Toriel didn't understand, but she took a regular pencil and obeyed the request. Toriel had no time to watch her write about condensation, for hushed whispering caught her attention.

"Is something the matter, Mark?" she asked one of the boys who sniggered earlier. He wasn't intimidated about being caught.

"Nah Miss Tori," he shrugged, following Nicholas' example, "nothing's the matter."

It was a bald-faced lie, but again Toriel felt pressing the issue was a bad example, so she let it slide. And yet as she praised the neat handwriting of the group next to the assessor, a feeling of being judged harshly emanated from him. Did he think she'd made a mistake, or was that her own self doubt? Still, better soldier on. She supervised the other posters as they neared completion.

"Very good, everyone," she called, "your teacher will be pleased when he sees all this work you have completed. You are all wonderful at drawing the... oh dear, Tisha?"

"Yes, Miss Toriel?" The confidence was gone, she sounded afraid.

"It is 'condensation', not 'condescension', you have misspelled it."

"Oh," Tisha's tone was stoic. Too stoic. "Sorry, Miss."

"Do not fret, we all make mistakes. I can correct it for you."

As Toriel rubbed out the offending word, two things came to her attention. Renewed sniggering from Nicholas and his friends, and Tisha gripping her hands tightly. While it was never nice for a teacher to correct you, Tisha seemed to act like Toriel had personally insulted her. She didn't understand.

"Now, before lunch, your teacher has a short maths test he would like you to complete. Return to your desks and I shall hand them out."

The class obeyed. Soon Toriel was sitting at the desk, a little uncomfortable is it was smaller than she was used to, marking the earlier worksheet. Twenty-six people were busy with pen or pencil. Before long working at the desk strained Toriel's neck, so she looked up with the pretext of making sure everyone was behaving. And it was a good thing she did, for one was not. She got up and approached the culprit.

"Nicholas," she said softly, "I told you to put that comic away."

"Didn't say not to take it out again," he responded.

"Because a teacher's request does not expire after a time limit. I should not have to ask you while you are doing a test."

"Oh that. I'm finished."

"I doubt it."

"Go ahead," he gestured at the page on the desk, "mark it."

She took the page and her red pen. An early opportunity to plant a red X didn't emerge. Nor did a late one. Tick, tick, tick. Some of the others watched the confrontation, including Nicholas' friends. Before long, Toriel held a test that achieved a perfect score in her hands.

"I know this junk already." The swagger was palpable. "Why should I sit bored?"

"W-well," said Toriel, "you could have told me you were finished and I could assign you something to do."

"Eh." The contempt was shocking. "No point in being a swot for a sub teacher, like people who pretend to read during break. Anything else, Miss Tori?"

Toriel's instincts was to insist on a great deal else, but Nicholas' bravado kept it at bay. She returned the flawless test to him. "Please sit quietly until the others are done."

The look he gave her made it clear he felt he was choosing to be quiet, regardless of her wishes. With an intrusive sigh he started twiddling his thumbs, not bothering to hide it. Challenging her authority was one thing, rowdy monster children were always pushing, but acting as though it didn't exist was a bewildering experience. She returned to the desk, though her progress through the worksheets was now slow. The assessor's expression hadn't changed, but his air had, and Toriel felt his disapproval. So caught up in the challenge that may have derailed the whole day, she missed that she was not the only person no longer worried about schoolwork.

* * *

Not wanting to overstep her bounds unless asked to, Toriel remained in the staff room at lunchtime, eating some snail sandwiches Frisk had made for her that morning. They used a little too much butter, but otherwise their cooking was steadily improving now their access to Undyne's tutelage was carefully regulated. However her low spirits robbed her of appetite, and the sandwiches remained unfinished. Now she was looking out the window at the bustling playground, the children as carefree as they ought to be. Some from other classes were looking back at her, understandably curious, interrogating some of her students about her. Nicholas was sitting on the jungle gym with his friends, laughing about something. Someone, Toriel thought. Meanwhile she noticed Tisha sitting on the grass beneath a tree, continuing to read the book.

"Rough morning?"

"Mmm?" She looked around. "Oh, hello again, Mrs Yi."

The loser of the wager joined her in looking out the window for a moment, before repeating her hail. "Rough morning?"

"Perhaps. What makes you think so?"

"I've seen student teachers do the exact same thing when they screw up. Look out at those kids, wondering if they have a right to help them become their best selves."

Toriel sighed in acknowledgement. "Education is more universal than one might think."

"I'll drink to that," Mrs Yi chuckled, "except I'm on duty until four, so it'll have to wait. Come on, what was it? Or who?"

Toriel looked at the hazel eyes much brighter than the lined face seemed to allow. "Well, I was supervising an arithmetic test, and I do not think my assessor approved of a situation that arose. One boy, Nicholas, he-"

"Ahhhhh. Young Master Beamer. He sure is a handful."

"You know of him?"

She nodded sagely. "Taught him last year. Probably the brightest kid in the school. He could probably graduate already, but his mom's worried about separating him from kids his own age. She's got a good point, but he disagrees. Any new teacher he meets usually takes a month to rope him into line. But he always pushes even then. You won't be the first or last sub he's rude to. Kid's gonna run into trouble when the curriculum catches up with him if he doesn't develop decent study habits."

"Well perhaps a more specialised learning program could be laid out for him."

Mrs Yi laughed. "You gonna pay for that?"

Toriel felt defensive. "Obviously one-to-one teaching on a mass scale is not practical, I recall teaching my son in our home, but perhaps other children of similar ability could be gathered into a dedicated classroom."

"Who do you think Mister Glassey teaches? We tried putting Nicholas there, but he was even more disruptive than in the regular classes. He thinks there's a stigma to going there. For him it's the big kids or nothing. I think he wants to be grown up without doing the growing."

Toriel raised a thumb to her mouth in thought. "That makes sense, I suppose. But in the meantime that arrogance cannot be a healthy way to look at the world."

"Only so much we can do if he won't help himself." The two woman eyed the boy they were discussing as he and his friends wandered over to the trees. "So, how much detention did he earn when he mouthed off at you?"

"Detention?" It was like she'd never heard the word before. "Oh no, I did not punish him, I-"

"And you wonder why that guy's questioning your teaching chops?! You're allowed to demand a little respect, Toriel. Kids like that walk over you, nobody learns anything. Are monster kids all angels?"

"Well n-no they are not, I do have to be stern on occasion."

"Then what's the difference?"

"I..." What _was_ the difference? "To waltz into a completely new place and demand compliance like... like a queen…" Mrs Yi looked at her as the last word was dragged from her throat. "I'm a representative of monsters here, to act so entitled is-"

"'A representative of monsters'? I thought you were a teacher."

A clawed hand seized a furry chin in surprise, as though slapped. A base assumption of the whole day had crumbled to dust under the weight of its error.

"Judging by the look on your face, education really _is_ universal. Even its mistakes. Looks like you were going for being liked above everything else. Easy mistake to make."

"I…" Toriel cleared her throat. "I might not put it that way, but I did not wish to frighten anyone. I pushed for this exchange to help alleviate misconceptions. To demonstrate that we mean no harm."

"More noble than the average reason for staring out that window," shrugged Mrs Yi, "but you can't be friends with them first. That comes after they acknowledge you as a teacher."

"That feels so cold. If a child is troubled…"

"Then you help them, obviously. You can do both, you know. It just takes a while to figure out the difference."

"Perhaps longer than you think." Toriel's tone was dry. "But you have made good points. Thank you. Perhaps I can salvage this day."

"Eh, I've seen that assessor before. Never caught his name. He's passed worse. Just don't take any guff. Act like the queen you deserve to be!"

The last comment landing much harder than she could have possibly expected it to, Mrs Yi strolled over to the coffee machine. Toriel returned to watching the playground, though with less intent than she had before. The new weights on her mind however were not enough to miss an opportunity to decide the difference.

A commotion was going on by the trees, Nicholas' group surrounding someone in unnervingly high spirits. Before long they parted, allowing Tisha to emerge and dash away, book clutched tight to her chest. It was obvious she wasn't looking where she was going, as she bumped into a younger girl and knocked her down, ignoring both the girl and the playground supervisor calling after her. It did not take any of this for Toriel to know something was wrong.

* * *

Dipping her head once more, though with less precision than that morning, Toriel re-entered the classroom. As hoped, Tisha was sitting at her desk, sobbing quietly. The book lay on the floor forgotten, no longer wanted. The source of the playground argument was apparent, but not the reason. Not yet.

"Tisha, child?" A brief disruption in the rhythm of the sobbing was the only acknowledgement. "What is the matter?" No answer. Mrs Yi's advice to demand respect would obviously not fit. The only thing Toriel could think to do was to sit at her desk, to be at her post if called upon. To pass the time she made an attempt to catch up on marking the earlier worksheet. Happenstance allowed her to peruse Tisha's surprisingly poor efforts when the girl herself finally said something intelligible.

"...'m stupid…"

"Sorry, child? I did not hear-"

"I'm stupid," she wailed, "I don't belong here! I should go back to kindergarten! I can't hide it anymore, I'm a big fake!"

It felt indecent to be the witness to such personal thoughts, but when those thoughts were so desparing, Toriel could not allow them to continue. "And what on earth makes you think so?"

"I can't read!"

"You cannot read?" The declaration sounded absurd to Toriel's ears. "Surely you are mistaken, I have seen your nose buried in the book all day-"

That was a mistake. Tisha stood up from her desk and kicked the book. It slid straight across the floor and under Toriel's desk, where her bare paw felt it bump softly against it. Tisha noticed the surprise on Toriel's face this produced.

"Oh! I- I'm sorry Miss, I didn't mean to hit you with it-"

"Do not fret, little one," she said, retrieving the book and placing it on her desk. Teacher, Queen, Mother, no one role felt the most appropriate. Best to act as a Toriel, whatever that meant. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"N-not really."

"I cannot force you. Especially when we may part ways this evening and never see each other again. But believe me, discussing problems helps."

"You're wrong, you can't-"

"'I cannot change what has happened. Discussing it is a waste of time. Things are as they are, and I am powerless to do anything. Better to flee the problem than face it.' Am I in the 'ball park', Tisha?"

The tears on the young face stopped, but not the sniffles. A drop of curiosity pierced through the despair. "H-how'd you know?"

"Long ago, I..." It was hard to explain, picking at a scar that could never fade no matter how much time it was given to heal. "...a problem emerged in the Underground. A crisis. A tragedy. A decision was made. I could do nothing about it, or so I thought. I spent a long time trying to ignore the problem, to fix it without really fixing it. But he- it just got worse. And finally I was compelled to go and confront it. And with the help of my friends, we fixed it. Had I acted sooner, I may have stopped so much trouble from happening. It is possible discussing the problem may not help, Tisha, but it is certain that running away from it will not."

Toriel was reminded of the way Asriel twisted his hands when troubled as Tisha enacted a similar habit, clearly torn.

"Here," said Toriel, getting up to retrieve one of the spare children's chairs stacked in a corner by the blackboard and putting it besides her own chair, "please sit down, and you may speak when you are ready. Or you may remain silent until the bell rings, if that is your choice."

Tisha hesitated, but finally accepted the invitation. Once seated she immediately looked down at Toriel's bare feet, clearly seeking something else to think about. Such a false balm would not address the issue, so with a shift Toriel's skirt concealed them. Tisha's eyes wandered back to the book, glowering at it. Although Toriel's offer of silence was sincere, she decided an open question would be appropriate.

"What did you think of the story when we read it aloud, child? I thought you looked interested."

"...I was," she admitted, "But I couldn't keep up with reading it. I was scared you were gonna ask me to read it aloud?"

"Why?"

"Because every few sentences a word would be on the page and whoever was reading would say something different. Or, I thought it was different, because when I took my time and read it slower they had said the right word. My brain wasn't telling me the right word. But I couldn't keep up with reading that slow, so I... I stopped reading, I just listened to everyone telling the story. But I wanted to catch up. That's why I read it at break and at lunch. But Nicholas noticed."

"Yes, I saw him accost you on the playground." Toriel's fangs disappeared beneath her pursed lips. "What did he say to you?"

"He made me recite the page I was on. I said 'Finn led his sister onto the Ferrarri'. They burst out laughing. I remembered from earlier the real word was 'ferry', but it was too late. He knows I'm stupid now, that I can't read."

The testimony was sullen, laced with self loathing. That would not do. "Tisha, you are not stupid, not at all! I saw you take charge of your group during geography. You correctly identified the stages of the water cycle. Your drawings truly are wonderful."

"And I spelled condensation wrong!" Sniffles started up again.

"How…" it felt equally impertinent and important to ask. "How long have you felt troubled about reading and writing?"

"Y-years. We were doing group reading, just like today, a-and I read out 'Thanks for the Sardinian sandwiches'. B-but they were 'sardine' sandwiches. Everyone laughed at me. That means there's something wrong with me! Everyone forgot after a while, but I had to be careful. I try not to get asked to read aloud, so nobody remembers I'm b-bad at it."

Tisha began to sob again. More praise of her good qualities would be pointless in such a state, so Toriel took the opportunity to bundle up everything she'd learned in her head. And a thread quite unconnected to the topic at hand decided to weave itself among the evidence. Something she'd read while preparing for the exchange. Tisha didn't notice as she bent over to get something out of her bag, but she did notice the thud as a large book landed on the desk.

"This," said Toriel, "is a book about problems new teachers might encounter when teaching. I bought it in case something unique to humans might turn up." She flipped through roughly two thirds of the book before finding the page she wanted. "Read the chapter title. Take as much time as you need, lunch is not over for fifteen minutes."

Curiosity ascendant once again, Tisha planted a finger on the page and traced the title. "Chapter Ten: Dis... dys... lex... Dys-lex-i-a."

"Yes," nodded Toriel, "I read about this. Dyslexia is when some human brains cannot process written words properly. The order of letters get jumbled in your head, and it can be hard linking certain words to how they are supposed to sound. I must say, it is unusual to me. Monsters never have that issue."

"So does that mean I really am stupid?!"

"No!" cried Toriel. "Your brain is just a little different. Just like I am a little different from your regular teacher." Tisha smiled a little. "It is actually quite common, as many as one in ten people can be affected by it, according to this book."

"But if I can't read properly, how can I stay in my class? I'll have to-"

"The book says," hurried Toriel to avoid more catastrophising, "there are special techniques a dyslexic can learn to help them read properly. You will not have to leave your friends if you do not wish it. It is just a matter of discussing things with the headmaster. Now, I am not sure if I would be the most appropriate person, but if you want to improve your reading to match your ability to remember facts and to draw…"

"Then I think I can help her, Miss Toriel."

Teacher and student looked up in surprise. The assessor stood in the entrance to the class.

"Oh! I am sorry sir, I did not notice you."

"I have a knack for that." His voice was hoarse from lack of use. "Not drawing attention to myself. Did it a lot when I was younger. Keeping the teacher from asking me to read."

Tisha's mouth opened in surprise. "You mean you have it too?"

He shrugged in admittance. "And now I'm a teacher. It's no barrier to a good education, unless you make it one. Takes someone willing to listen to us sometimes to catch it, especially if your classmates are the first to notice. I'm in charge of the board's program to help children with problems like dyslexia. If you want, I can talk to your headmaster, and then he can talk to your mommy and daddy to get you the help you need. Would you like if we did that? If I recall, that book is pretty good. Would be a shame if you missed out on it."

"Yeah!" Tisha rubbed her eyes a little. "I wanna finish it myself."

"Alright. Come with me now, and I'll talk to him."

Tisha sprang to her feet, and with a quick "Thanks!" to Toriel, ran out past him. The assessor stayed where he was a moment, looking at Toriel with a brand new smile.

"You did your homework," he said approvingly, "and those ears aren't just for show. Good job."

Toriel bathed in relief for the remainder of the lunch hour.

* * *

The class assembled for afternoon lessons, Tisha and the assessor slightly late, but not much later than Nicholas, who had treated the bell more as a suggestion than a rule. Neither discussed the results of the conference, so Toriel opted not to talk to the class about it, her role in it finished. The final lesson of the day was history, though at the level the children were at it was more of a second story time.

"...and then Caesar said 'The die is cast', and he ordered his soldiers to cross the river. And this meant..." a raised hand caught her attention. "Yes, Nicholas?"

"I think you'll find," he said, just as full of brag as before, "that he said 'Let the die be cast'." His friends smirked at him.

"Ah," said Toriel, "a fair point. Children, I should explain that a lot of time in history, what exactly happened is not always known, and sometimes two or three or even more accounts are passed down to us. Ideally one should be aware of all accounts to have a better understanding, but it can be easy to settle on one explanation. Thank you for pointing that out, Nicholas."

The compliment enhanced the sense of dominance he felt his earlier maths test had instilled. "I'm pretty sure my version's the only right one. It's what the book I read said."

"Hmm..." the noise was patient. "The textbook your teacher uses only mentions the first version."

"Yeah, well he's rubbish at history."

"Nicholas," warned Toriel, "we are not here to debate your regular lessons. Now then, when the Senate heard about the legion moving south..."

An obnoxiously loud yawn stalled the story yet again.

"Nicholas, child, did you get enough sleep last night?"

There were titters from several children. The assessor even smirked briefly. Nicholas was now glowering.

"I thought I did," he retorted, "but then I didn't count on listening to a story I already know again."

"I cannot force you to listen," she said coldly, "but I must insist you do not disrupt the lesson for your classmates."

Another loud yawn slapped down this order. "Maybe I'd find it easier if teachers would move on to the more advanced stuff faster, instead of hugging lazy idiots who couldn't be bothered reading properly."

Tisha glared at him, though the shame she might have shown earlier that day was absent. For Toriel too the line was crossed.

"That is quite enough, young man. If this part of the story bores you, then perhaps you can skip ahead. I would like you to write an essay, containing at least three sentences each about every Roman Emperor. Every one. I shall contact your regular teacher to ensure you hand it in to him."

"Fine," he snapped. "I can tell you the ending now. 'Romulus Augustulus was the last emperor. He was a teenager. He was deposed by-'"

"Romulus Augustulus?" It was Toriel's turn to smile, an unmistakably mischievous edge to it. "I believe you mean 'Constantine the Eleventh was the Last Emperor. He fell in battle against-'"

" _Eleventh?_ " exclaimed Nicholas. "What?! I thought there were only two or three!"

"Hee hee hee, oh dear. Children, I must skip ahead in our story to explain. Many people think the Roman Empire fell in 476. What they do not realise is that only the Western part fell, the part actually containing the city of Rome. The Eastern part lasted a lot longer than that, to 1453. Nearly a thousand years longer."

"A thousand…" whispered Nicholas, "but that has to be like another hundred emperors to write about!"

"Something like that. But I thought you 'knew all this junk', so it should not be too hard. And if you do not know, well, it does not hurt to learn."

"How do you know that anyway? Maybe you're making it up to scare me!"

"I am not. My father was there. Well, not in the empire at the time, but monsters liked to keep track of what was going on in human affairs."

A low "ooooooh" filled the room, as this hint at Toriel's age had most children on the edge of their seat. Nicholas, face reddening, decided to dig deeper.

"No. I'm not doing it. You can't make me."

"She can, actually." Everyone turned to the assessor. "Or your headmaster can."

"But... b-but!" He now pleaded. "But Miss Tori, that'll take-"

"Do not 'Tori' me, Beamer!"

Nicholas was not used to the withering glare Toriel was now giving him, but he knew it was bad news. And yet he dug. "Why should I have to do homework from a... take orders from a big-"

"From a teacher," said Toriel. "Because the alternative is to suggest to your headmaster you return to Mister Glassey's class. If you do not wish to have your potential truly tested, if you wish to stay here and wait for the brick wall awaiting you in high school, then you shall cease poo-pooing the lessons!"

The threat had no weight to it, Toriel clearly could not arrange such a thing, but the authority with which it spoke convinced Nicholas she could. And whatever hangups he had about having an opportunity to apply himself did the trick.

"'M sorry, Miss Toriel," he grumbled.

"I accept your apology. Perhaps this additional work shall ensure you do not _Rome_ into such realms of misbehaviour again." More giggles reached her ears as she allowed herself to smile at the pun, her spectacles magnifying her dignity. "Now then, when the Senate heard about the legion, they panicked, and..."

Twenty or so sets of faces listened to the story intently. Nicholas' friends looked over to him sympathetically as he continued to glower. The assessor looked both amused and impressed. To Toriel the rest of the day felt like she was teaching in her old school.

* * *

She didn't notice the early chill the October breezes now offered. Her fur was an obvious reason, but also was how busy the school had been. The machinations over the summer had not caused a torrent of prospective human students desperate to learn the secrets of monsters, but the trickle was much steadier than it had been the previous year, and there were natural issues that had to be addressed. Frisk was a godsend, someone the new students could relate to physically while they made friends beyond factors of physical appearance. But Frisk and to a lesser extent Asriel no longer did this under Toriel's direct eye, for they had moved to the next grade. The opportunity to teach her son again had never lasted long enough for her tastes, but she had enough objective sense to know it would never have been enough. Besides, as long as they came to her for help with homework, they would continue to be under her guidance, no matter how informally. None of this occurred to her that Monday morning as the took the register.

"Raffy?"

"Here!"

"Bob Junior?"

"Here!"

"First Rock On The Surface?"

_Thud._

"Mostest Dog?"

"Arf!"

"Patricia Nolland?"

"Here."

At this final name, most heads and eyeballs turned to the figure in the front. She wasn't the only human in the class, but she hadn't been there on Friday.

"Very good, everyone is present. Now then, children, as I explained on Friday we are beginning a... 'new and dynamic' exchange program with human schools, to build on the program we had last year. I know human children have begun to attend this school full time, but it never hurts for more to learn about us, and us to learn about them. Now then, Tisha, would you like to introduce yourself to the others?"

She wasn't shy about it. She got to her feet and walked to the front, standing besides the teacher smiling benignly at her.

"Hi. My name's Patricia, but everyone calls me Tisha. My favourite food is pizza, and I like to listen to Shyren songs!" A badly timed chorus of "Hello, Tisha." responded to this brief introduction, and she took her seat again.

"So nice of you to visit us, Tisha," said Toriel happily. "Now then, it is reading time. Does everyone have their book?" Mutters of confirmation. "Good. Who would like to continue where we left off at chapter five... Yes, Tisha?"

"May I start, Miss Toriel?" she asked. "I need to keep practicing. I've been working at it over the summer."

"Certainly! In your own time."

"My own time? Hope you can keep up!" The class giggled good naturedly at her confidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
